Tag: fatigue

I am honestly terrified for this semester. In so many ways, this is my last chance to turn things around. But I am so, so very worn– physically, mentally & emotionally. Simply getting out of bed or responding to text messages seems too hard some days, nevermind successfully functioning as a student. I know that worrying fixes nothing, and I’m trying not to get too ahead of myself: it’s only been three days. But before the semester even began, I felt like I was drowning. I’m working my very hardest and trying to keep my head up, but I really don’t think I can do this…

After a difficult semester full of medical twists and turns, I am needing to request a retroactive withdrawal. To begin the process, I had to submit a statement detailing the reasons why I was needing to withdraw.

I found myself struggling for words and anxious about the withdrawal process, so my mom kindly got on the phone and tried to help me figure out how to phrase the letter.

After rattling off a long list of symptoms, procedures, and medical vicissitudes, she finished with:

5+ years of taking more medications than most 80 years olds. Drugs to treat symptoms and disease processes and then even more drugs to treat side effects of those drugs.

5+ years of needle sticks, blown IVs, invasive therapies, painful procedures; “eating” through a tube in my intestines; relying on a wheelchair (though using it less than I should due to fear of judgement); stabbing myself with EpiPens, grabbing at my throat gasping for breath; faking smiles, forcing laughs and constantly hiding behind an “it’s all good”; trying, and usually failing, to balance health, family and school, struggling not to define my existence by my disabilities…

Academically, I am drowning. Studying for this test, I’ve watched videos, made flashcards, drawn pictures, constructed diagrams, read the textbook, took online quizzes– but NOTHING is sticking. My fatigue has been crippling & my brain fog has been worse than ever before. I am SO burnt out from fighting so hard to accomplish tasks most my age don’t even have to think twice about.

Being in school, going to classes, doing homework, studying, going to necessary meetings– all keep me from giving 100% to taking care of my health.

It is definitely a catch-22!

Anyway, tonight I made some big decisions about this semester & about my academic endeavors as a whole. I have a meeting with my advisor tomorrow, so we shall see. I am hoping to leave that meeting with a plan & some hope for the future…

I have been really struggling to find my words lately, and it has been incredibly disheartening. Writing has always been something I’ve enjoyed and something in which I could seek clarity and solace, but these days even sending text messages is a chore. There is so much I want to say, but the thoughts slip through my fingers before I can put pen to paper. I’ve noticed this struggle to form cohesive sentences has gotten worse since my last concussion (lucky #7). Even speaking takes more mental energy than it has in days prior. I’m really hoping this cloudiness is temporary…

Sometimes I look into the mirror and at the person staring back at me like…what happened? When did I become an adult? Where did that little girl go? Wasn’t it just yesterday that she was playing outside, dancing in her bedroom- dreaming of the independence of the grown-up world? Where was I all those years? I would have protected her. I would have told her that being a grown up is not all it’s cracked up to be. I would have begged her to stay young. I would have shielded her from every little thing that stole away her blissful innocence. Those eyes in the mirror have lost their light. Even when she smiles, she looks so worn. Battered. She stares back at me, brows furrowed, as if to say, “Why didn’t you save me?” I slowly reach out to her, and our hands meet. A tear slides down her face. I want to tell her not to cry…that it will all be okay…but my breath is caught in my throat. Looking into her eyes I whisper, “I’m sorry.” And then I turn away.

Fact: The majority of Dysautonomia patients- specifically POTS patients- are hypovolemic, despite adequate hydration. Standard blood and urine tests may not always detect this hypovolemia, as the patient is typically deficient in plasma and red blood cells. Blood volume analysis with a radio-tracer can be used to evaluate a POTS patient for hypovolemia (Dysautonomia International).

Hypovolemia, or low blood volume, is a daily struggle for me. In order to combat this issue, I receive two to four liters of IV Saline each week, as well as push a liter or more of water and Pedialyte through my j-tube each day.

Dysautonomia is an umbrella term used to describe several different medical conditions that cause a malfunction of the Autonomic Nervous System. The Autonomic Nervous System controls the “automatic” functions of the body that we do not consciously think about, such as heart rate, blood pressure, digestion, dilation and constriction of the pupils of the eye, kidney function, temperature regulation, etc.

I work my very hardest to be “normal” and not to bring anyone down. However, I must say…

It’s indescribably disheartening to sit helpless as a disease detains you in the prison of your own body. You look back at your former life with nostalgic envy, realizing you took it all for granted. From the most elaborate vacation to a simple walk to the bathroom. Every day without pain or fatigue- when you had the potential to say “yes” to every exciting invitation instead of, “No, I’m too sick” to any suggestion at all…so many times that people cease asking altogether.

What I would give for the “normal”- even “boring”- feelings that many my age detest. I would love to get up early to the sound of an alarm clock jarring me out of a sweet dreamland for yet another predictable day of monotony. To get up out of bed, brush my teeth, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast…

To set out to enjoy another day of teenage normalcy instead of settling into the rigor that is the 24/7 management of an unpredictable and all-consuming illness, hoping that my well-disciplined routine will allow me one more day of maintenance and “just getting by.”

I am not seeking your pity- I am incredibly thankful for the life I have, truly, despite my limitations. But I do plead for your understanding.

Please see that I am not my illnesses: I am me…

I’m holding my ground as the army that is chronic illness pushes forward. It may have more weaponry and experience, but I have an amazing team, a little stubbornness, and a lot of untiring faith.

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